


Black Magic

by Paintthebrain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But mostly cute magical fluff, Clexa Week 2017, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, In october, Magic AU, Mystery, Some angst bc of the grieving, Takes place in salem, clexahalloweenweek, love potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-01-23 13:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12508688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintthebrain/pseuds/Paintthebrain
Summary: Lexa is a sad gay magic bean. In an attempt to move on from her dead wife, Lexa makes a love potion for herself. When it goes missing she and her best friend Clarke have to figure out who took it before something bad happens.





	1. Take a Sip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome! I made my own little magical world. It has its own lore and vocab. If you have any questions feel free to ask. Here's a little vocab to get you started.
> 
>  **Synovia**  or  **syno**  for short – this universe’s version of a wand. But instead of an easily broken piece of wood(which I always thought was suuuuuuper stupid), it’s made of hardy metals and stones each combination unique to the owner. The metal part wraps around the owner’s fingers like rings while the stone is carved to fit in the palm and channels their magic. Think of them like brass knuckles with a uniquely shaped precious stone resting in the palm. It gets its name from synovial which is a type of joint like knuckles.
> 
>  **Popshake**  – Pureed apple cinnamon beverage with a sprinkling of pixie dust.
> 
>  **Popped**  – the magical equivalent of drunk. Usually in reference to and caused by the pixie dust in popshake
> 
>  **Maege**  – Magical people and culture
> 
>  **Nomaege**  – non magical people and culture
> 
>  **Faege**  – magical people with specialized gifts. Allowing them to use specific magic without their syno. Examples – human lie detectors, empaths

> "Take a sip on my secret potion  
>  I’ll make you fall in love  
>  It’s a spell that can’t be broken  
>  One drop should be enough.  
>  You belong to me.  
>  I got the recipe.  
>  And it’s called Black magic."
> 
>   * Little Mix
> 


* * *

 

She wakes up slowly, shifting and trying to fall back asleep, the taste of last night’s popshake still sweet on her tongue, the pixie dust still sparking across her teeth. She whines and pulls her pillow over face blocking out the morning sun, her clean linen sheets crunching with her movements.

 She hears the soft pad of paws landing on her dresser. Her black cat has a habit of knocking stuff off it just for the fun of it. One of the many reasons his name is Recipe for Disaster or Recipe for short. She hears the telltale sign of him tapping and shifting something along the wood just to watch it fall to the floor. Lexa groans and squeezes her hands into a fists, noting her synovia is still wrapped around her fingers. “Recipe! Get down!”

A soft mewl. More scraping of glass against wood.

Lexa pulls the pillow off her face and prepares to launch it at her stupid black cat. At Costia’s stupid black cat. A pang hits her in the chest at that thought. She takes in a deep breath to shout, connecting her gaze with Recipe. He is staring at her shamelessly, a guilty black paw paused in mid swipe, prepared to knock a single small bottle off the edge of the dresser.

The smell from the cauldron hits her full in the face. The scent of last night’s boiled ingredients tearing through the air.

Oh no.

She did it. She floating did it. She made a love potion.

She drops the pillow and leaps out of bed. Recipe gets the memo and lunges off the dresser. He winds between Lexa legs as she grabs the bottle in hand.

What in the hell had she been thinking?

Making love potions had been banned by the Elder Council over a century ago.

She just needed something. Anything.

Too much pixie dust in the popshake had made her think it was a brilliant idea. Lexa has felt heartless for so long. One swig of the potion and she’d be head over heels with the next person she saw. If she wasn’t already. And well that was the larger problem really.

Recipe mewls loudly. “Yea ok devil cat. Breakfast.”

Lexa pads across her apartment. Pulling out canned cheese from the cupboard and taking the lid off. Costia had always been fascinated with nomaege foods and edibles. To Lexa canned cheese is neither food nor edible. But to Recipe it is the nectar of the gods.

He hops onto the counter and twists himself back and forth as Lexa squirts the orange goo into his bowl. He gives her a loving head butt on the forearm before settling himself in front of the bowl to lap happily at his meal.

Lexa conjures herself a popshake from the fridge, purposely neglecting to put in pixie dust. She grabs a banana from the fruit bowl, another perfectly ripe one appearing instantly from the place she plucked it. She opens her palm revealing the stone of her synovia. The carved jade glows lightly as the banana in her hand begins to peel itself. She takes a sip of the popshake letting the sugar settle on her tongue.

Recipe’s soft purrs and gobbling filter through the room as Lexa remembers last night. She remembers say good night to her best friend, her eyes finding Clarke’s lips in the dark. A thrill of hope had run through Lexa.

That thrill of hope was quickly dashed by guilt. Dashed by the feeling she shouldn’t move on. The same notion she’s had since the first day she met Clarke. She can’t. She shouldn’t move on. NO matter how badly she wants to. She left Clarke on the step of her eccentric house and flew back here.

She went through Costia’s things. The box, small in appearance, held recipes and pictures and anecdotes of a life lived together. She didn’t cry. Just dwelled. And as she dwelled she felt more determined to move on. To let go. And apparently, popped Lexa thought the best way to do that was to make an outlawed, highly-volatile substance using one of the recipe’s she found in Costia’s things.

Lexa looks at the bottle on the counter. It exists because of Lexa’s guilt. And because of hope. And all the messy grey areas in between.

With a flick of her wrist, she could destroy it. Her synovia would make quick work of it. It’s bad news. They don’t call it _black_ magic because good things happen when it’s invoked. She opens her hand, but just as she lifts it to obliterate the bottle and its contents, a message flashes across the jade stone.

_~~Brunch started 20 minutes ago. Everyone’s here. Where are you?_

Lexa can tell from the blue scrawl it’s from Clarke.

Lexa thinks of the message she wants to send. Then rethinks it. Then thinks some more. What do you say to the best friend you almost kissed last night? What do you say when that almost kiss is what pushed you over the edge and made you want to knock back a love potion just so you can move on from your dead wife? She decides to keep it simple. She thinks it, touches her temple and then touches a finger to the stone.

_~~Late night. I forgot. I’ll be there in 5._

She blows stray strands of hair out of her face, stuffing the last piece of banana in her mouth and downing her popshake.

She walks back to her bedroom and waves her syno over her form. Her pajamas melt from her body and freshly laundered undergarments appear in their place. Her skin is steaming like she just stepped out of a hot shower. Her hair is washed and falling in loose curls across her bare shoulders.

She walks to her closet and picks out a white button down. It hovers in the air as her dresser drawers open and a pair of skinny jeans floats out and moves to its place below the shirt. Lexa steps toward the outfit and it wraps around her instantly.

She straightens her shirt as she walks back out to the kitchen. When she gets there she grabs a tan leather jacket from a chair in the breakfast nook. She gives Recipe a scratch behind his ear. She takes a deep breath and thinks of The Gallows. She takes another last look around the room. Recipe has finished his meal and is waiting to be entertained. As an afterthought, Lexa grabs the bottle from the counter and shoves it in her jacket, sealing the pocket with a spell. The last thing she needs is cat drunk off a love spell.

She exhales and she’s gone. Recipe’s meow goes unheard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This is my clexa halloween week contribution. I probably won't be finished by halloween, but I'm hoping most of it will.
> 
> So glad you're here!


	2. My Secret Potion

Lexa lands with a swiping force. The crisp autumn air winds its way through Old Salem Town. Lexa stands at the large door to The Gallows. Her combat boots crunch the leaves that had fallen from the tree that gives this old pub its name. Its branches stick out through the roof of the tavern like a wooden crown. Lexa fingers her jacket pocket to make sure the potion made the journey too. She heaves a sigh of relief when it’s still there.

Laughter and chatter comes through the dense oak door. She pushes it open with a creek.

The wide, knotty hangman’s tree stands like a sentinel in the center of it all, thick fraying rope coiling up the trunk and dangling from limbs. Legend says all but one of the maeges accused of witchcraft during the Salem Trials had been hung from this tree. She pushes further into the tavern following the raucous voices. Voices that could only belong to her friends.

Along the way she spots the barmaid Niylah lavishing a reluctant pixie with praise. After a moment the tiny creature preens and flutters her wings. Sparkling dust falls into a cup beneath her. Niylah strokes a kind finger under the creature’s miniscule chin before picking up the cup and handing it over to a regular Lexa would recognize anywhere. Titus.

Lexa feels a shutter up her spine. She’d forget him if she could. But no one forgets the Old Guard, immortal and near omniscient with their lie detection powers. Faeges all of them.

Lexa tries to ignore his ever watchful eye and focus on Gustus who is turning pancakes in a cast-iron skillet without a spatula, just a gentle turn of his wrist, his yellow topaz syno twinkling with the movement. He looks up from the fire. “Lexa! Hello! Didn’t think I get to see you today. The gang is over there.” He nods toward the back corner currently obscured by the large trunk of the tree. “Niylah! Take Lexa over to her friends!”

Niylah  picks up two cups of popshake. “Hey Lex. This way.” Niylah’s smile is muted but genuine.

They walk pass Titus. Lexa can feel his black beetle eyes boring into her, crawling underneath her skin. She shoves her hands into her pockets hoping he can’t see what she knows. He slips off his syno and places it on the bar. The black stone swirling with grey on its own volition. A power only faeges possess.

NIylah leads the way valiantly, sending spirited hellos to other patrons. The cups of popshake balanced precariously in her hands. They meander with purpose to the table in the back.

Lincoln spots her first, a rare moment when he’s not focused on his girlfriend Octavia. “Hey!” He shouts as he stands. The rest of the group acknowledge her as Lincoln scoops her into his arms, a full body hug. Raven waves. Anya nods. Indra grunts.

But Lexa only has eyes for Clarke. For her reaction. Does she know how close Lexa had come to kissing her last night? She wouldn’t be surprised. Like Titus, Clarke is a faege. But instead of lie detection powers, Clarke can detect emotions. She’s an empath. Which really is the same thing. Emotions are often the reason for lies. A lie to protect someone’s feelings or your own.

Lexa feels her feet hit the floor again as Lincoln finishes his hug. She finds Clarke in the corner. A small smile on her face. She mouths the word ‘Hi” as Lexa takes her seat next to Clarke, the rest of the group return to their meals and drinks.  There’s no hug that has become a custom between the two friends. And Lexa is chomping at the bit to apologize. “Clarke…about last night…”

Clarke tilts her head considering Lexa for a moment. Like she’s unsure about something. But Lexa is genuinely sorry. And as an empath, Clarke would feel that.

“It’s okay, Lexa.” She tugs Lexa coat down her shoulders and helps her out of it, laying it across the back of a chair. “We’ll figure it out.”

Lexa is about to ask ‘figure what out’. But that’s when the hug happens. Wrapped up in Clarke’s arm, she forgets all about her guilt, her greif, and all the other feelings in between. All she feels is grateful to have met someone like Clarke.

 _A year ago, yesterday._ Her brain whispers. Today is October 26 th. Lexa met Clarke on October 25th 2016\. Just a few months after her wife had passed.

She might still be feeling the after effects of a night spent popped and right now she her mind is caught up in how she could forget her one year friendiversary with the greatest person she knows, but she swears she feels Clarke kiss her cheek.

But then Lexa has a plate of pancakes in front of her and an undusted popshake and she chooses to focus on that.

\--

Lexa comes back from the restroom to find brunch dying down. Several gnouts have made their way into the spaces underneath chairs and tables. Their elephant like trunks inhale remnants of food that fell to the floor while their stubby arms reach out for empty cups and plates.

Clarke and Raven are locked in a conversation. Clarke is smiling and laughing, but when she’s sees Lexa it makes her whole face light up. And Lexa’s never seen Clarke look at her like that.

Because Clarke wouldn’t look at her like that. Sure they are friends. Best friends. Even though Lexa has spent all of their relationship sad, she knows Clarke loves her regardless. As a friend. But right now Clarke is looking at her like she’s in love with her.

Oh no.

Lexa’s breath seizes in her throat. She rushes forward, tripping over a gnout on her way to the table. Her panic is muted by everyone standing to say their goodbyes. Lexa does her best to give out a hugs, but heads straight for her jacket. She fumbles with the pocket.

Just as she feared. The bottle. The potion is gone.


	3. It'll Make you Fall in Love

The potion is gone.

“Clarke, look at me.” Lexa places her hands on either side of Clarke’s face. Green eyes searching Clarke’s blue irises for flecks of red, a telltale sign that someone recently consumed a love potion. “Did you take it?” That’s the only explanation. The only reason for the way that Clarke was just looking at her.

But that look is gone and now all Lexa sees is Clarke’s confusion and concern. Which in its own way is disconcerting, but not as perplexing as the way Clarke raises her own hands to Lexa cheeks, mirroring Lexa’s touch. “Did I take what?” Clarke’s eyes shift between Lexa’s, seeking and searching.

“The potion, Clarke. Did you take it?”

By now they had drawn attention to themselves. Their friends are looking at them with inquisitive expressions on their faces. Lexa catches Titus staring at them before he abruptly clears his throat and puts his syno back on. He throws money on the table and excuses himself.

Clarke laughs awkwardly at the attention and throws a haphazard wave in the direction of their friends before grabbing Lexa by the collar of her button-down and snapping her fingers.

\--

Next thing Lexa knows she’s standing on the steps of Clarke’s house. The very steps Lexa left Clarke standing on last night before she ran away.

Clarke releases her collar. “Explain, Lexa.”

She’s not sure where to start. She taps her thumb nervously on the stone of her syno. She searches the air for the answer. Or at least something close to it.

Behind them, Clarke’s quirky home protrudes out of the serene forest like a clown at a funeral. Even amongst the bright fall foliage it seems a bit out of place. It looks like someone had woven several houses together like patch work. Like it wasn’t sure what kind of house it was supposed to be. Modern or classic. Craftsman or industrial. The main part was no bigger than a nomaege garage, but Lexa knew this was purely aesthetic taste because it was much larger on the inside. The exterior is accented purples, reds, yellows, and oranges to match the stained glass roof. A large clock is built into one of the patches, two hands rove the face a will. Lexa’s not sure what it’s supposed to be keeping track of because it certainly was not the time.

“Lexa. Focus. What is going on? Your emotions are all over the place.”

Lexa takes in a deep heavy breath. “Last night. After I left you. I went home. Dusted my popshake like it was a 50-year-old library book.” The words come on the singular exhale.

“And?”

“I got so popped I made a love potion.” She says guiltily

Clarke tilts her head. The same action as before. She must come to a similar conclusion as she did earlier because she relaxes. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“I lost the potion.”

“Lexa. Why would bring it with you?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I put it in my pocket as I was leaving.” Lexa holds up her jacket. “I thought it was safer in my possession than out of it. You’ve heard the stories of what some maeges will do to get their hands on just a shred of the recipe let alone a whole potion.”

“Yea. Tracking spells on signature ingredients. When all the signatures combine it’s like a homing beacon. Ok. Not a bad thought.” Clarke shifts her weight onto her other foot. “And at least you can defend it if it’s in your possession. But Dark Maeges pale in comparison to Recipe’s homing skills. He’d find it wherever it was and knock it over. And that cat eats the weirdest thing.”

Lexa laughs and feels relieved. “That was my _actual_ thinking. I was worried he would drink it. I didn’t think about dark maeges until…like a minute ago.”

“Recipe for Disaster is aptly named.” Clarke hums with a smile on her face.

Lexa is suddenly aware of how close she is standing to Clarke. She stares into those eyes again. Eyes as blue as the sapphire in Clarke’s syno. “Um, Clarke. You didn’t take it did you?” As Lexa asks the question, Clarke is watching her lips move.

Just then a loud tapping of glass against glass occurs. Clarke blows a hot huff air against Lexa’s face. It sounds a whole lot like “Dammit, Dickle.”

In the window is Clarke’s pet. If you could call it that. It’s a floating crystal ball with a disembodied head trapped inside. And the head calls herself Mrs. Dickle. Clarke swears she just showed up one day and refused to leave. Their relationship is cantankerous but loving. It’s obvious she cares about Clarke no matter how much she might badger her. Right now, Mrs. Dickle is hovering impatiently at the window, the crystal ball part of her drumming querulously against the glass. The head inside clearly agitated.

“Come on.” Clarke pulls her through the giant red door and into the house. She throws off her coat and it assumes its rightful place in the coat closet. She takes Lexa’s from her hand and immediately begins inspecting the pockets.

Mrs. Dickle zooms in, floating haughtily above a fern in the entryway. “Where have you been?”

Clarke doesn’t look up as she continues her inspection of Lexa’s coat. She swishes her hands through the left pocket. “Brunch.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Do I usually?” Clarke barks as she shoves her hand in the other pocket. She walks out into the living room. Mrs. Dickle close behind. Lexa follows after them both.

Mrs. Dickle’s tone softens. “No, but I was worried after last night. All the cryi…”

This snaps Clarke to attention. She throws Lexa’s jacket onto the sofa while simultaneously reaching for Mrs. Dickle’s vessel. “Excuse us for a second, Lexa,” Clarke pushes the crystal ball and the profusely protesting contents into the kitchen.

Lexa stands in the living room trying to distract herself with minute details. This is not the first time Clarke and Mrs. Dickle have excused themselves to have a heated discussion in the kitchen. Though, it is rather loud today. Lexa tries not listen as she looks at Clarke’s extensive book collection, but she over hears Clarke says ‘no I didn’t tell her’ and then almost instantly a feral growl from Mrs. Dickle.

Lexa picks up a book from the shelf. This is her favorite part, well second favorite part of Clarke’s house. Her actual favorite part is Clarke. She slightly cracks open a copy of Treasure Island and the room is immediately filled with the groans of a ship’s mast against the wind, the roar of the sea, and ranting Pirates.

All of Clarke’s books are like this. All the shelves floor to ceiling. And even the books that float amongst the vaulted, stained-glass ceiling. The ceiling culminates in a flourish at the center of the room. Beneath the prismatic peak is a large glass cylinder, big enough to fit two people. It’s kind of like an elevator that leads to the upper ‘floor’ of Clarke’s house.

Clarke comes back into the living room with a smug smile on her face.

“Clarke Griffin you take this off right now!” Mrs. Dickle is now a floating dish rag.

Lexa smiles at the sight.

Mrs. Dickle spends the next few seconds spinning on her axis trying to get the offending cloth off her.

“Ugh, fine.” Clarke waves her synovia and the rag falls limply to the floor. “Better?”

“Yes.” The ball give a slight pitch upward. If Mrs. Dickle had a body Lexa thinks right now she would be straightening her spine.

“Good.” Clarke gives her a kiss on the glass where her cheek is. She whispers “I know you mean well. And I promise I’ll be careful.” That seems to satisfy Mrs. Dickle. She throws a nasty look at Lexa as she darts out of the room.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Clarke walks to the cylinder in the middle of the room.

Lexa joins her inside and lets the silence permeate as the magic takes over.

They instantly begin to float, like they’re being sucked through a straw. The house and forest disappearing below them. They soar upward, but it’s as calm as an elevator in a nomaege dentist’s office. They pass through bright white clouds.  Lexa loves this part, but it still makes her  as nervous as it did the first time. She instinctually takes Clarke’s hand in her own. Lexa can feel the cool metal from Clarke’s syno. “You’re sure it’s nothing? You can tell me anything.” Lexa says at last.

Clarke sighs as they land softly on a cloud. She lets go of Lexa’s hand almost reluctantly. She waves her synovia and a bedroom appears around them. “I know that, Lexa. But right now we have to figure out where that potion is before it ends up in the wrong hands. Maybe it fell out of your pocket.”

“That’s impossible, Clarke. I sealed the pocket with a Finderskeepers spell. If it fell out it would immediately return to where it belonged. Someone had to have stolen it.” Clarke is looking at her raptly again, a soft smile on her face. And Lexa feels the same panic as before. Clarke has been acting so odd today. “Clarke you’re sure it wasn’t you?”

A flicker of anger flashes in Clarke’s eyes before it mutes itself. “No it wasn’t me.”  A faint green bubble appears at the side of Clarke’s head. Lexa blinks and it’s gone.

She believes Clarke. But it just makes her more confused.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Clarke almost sounds defeated.

“Know what?”

Clarke opens and closes her mouth a few times, almost as if she’s considering her words. “You really don’t know who might have took it.”

“No. No clue.”

“You can say that again.” Clarke says under her breath

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clarke turns away from her for a second. Lexa swears she hears a soft sob. But when Clarke turns again her shoulders are set and there is determination in her eyes. “Alright, well if a dark maege was using a homing spell we need to know.” Clarke opens a trunk at the foot of her bed and promptly begins pulling out the items they’ll need to get Lexa out of this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!


	4. It's a Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke head back to The Gallows. Lexa gets jealous.

An hour later, they find themselves back at the scene of the crime. The sun is high enough now that it breaks through the cracks in the roof, casting beams of light into the nooks and crannies of the usually gloomy hostelry. The few patrons that are here at The Gallows avoid the bright intrusions as much as possible. Gustus calls them the in-betweeners. They come between meal times to avoid the rush. Usually a more unsavory crowd that likes to keep to themselves.

Clarke clutches a pouch of crushed purple velvet containing their necessary supplies, 6 shards of rose quarts and a few sprigs of pigeonweed. They move toward the table they had occupied this morning, hoping to avoid any attention. Lexa is relieved to find that the in-betweeners keep to their previously described reputation and none of them lift their head in Clarke and Lexa’s direction. Just when Lexa thinks they are home free and safely hid behind the shadow of the hangman’s tree a figure steps in front of them.

Niylah beams at Clarke. Almost as bright as the stupid sunbeams stretching into their space. “Twice in one day. How lucky am I?” Niylah says only looking at Clarke. Lexa feels a pit form in her stomach.

Lexa is saved from Clarke’s response when Gustus brushes past Niylah to greet them. “Hello you two! Not that I am complaining. You are both much more pleasant company than this lot,” He says pointing a thumb back over his shoulder to the three other patrons in the tavern. One hooded with his head down. The two others whispering ominously between them. “But what are you doing back here?” His friendly smile shines out from the bristles of his dark black beard.

“Lexa lost something this morning. Mind if we do a quick spell?”

Gustus gestures toward the purple bag with his giant hand. “Brought some hematite for a locator spell?”

“Yep.” Several red bubbles appear above Clarke’s head as she says it.

“Okie doke.” He puts a hand on Niylah’s shoulder. “Come on, Miss Lahlah. I got some Mintols that need inventoried before we move over to the festival. You can make googoo eyes later.”

Niylah blushes and lowers her chin. “I’ll come say hi before I leave if you’re still here.” Lexa knows that was meant for Clarke and the pit in Lexa’s stomach opens into a wide gaping chasm. With a simple nod, Niylah turns on her heels and heads toward the back room behind the bar.

Gustus picks up a few empty glasses from the table beside them. “Let me know if you need any more hematite. Locator spells can be tricky.” He stacks the glasses and leaves.

Lexa takes a second to compose herself and try and think of literally anything that isn’t some version of ‘MINE!’ or other territorial marker that would surely scare Clarke off for good.

She settles for “We’re not doing a locator spell, Clarke.”

“Would you rather I tell them we are doing a spell to detect homing magic?”

“Good point.”

When they are nestled safely in the corner behind the tree, Clarke pulls out the pigeonweed first, laying it on the chair that Lexa had sat in that morning. Clarke conjures a mortar and pestle and begins grinding the pigeon weed to dust. Clarke starts setting up a ring of the rose quartz shards around their table being careful to place them in discreet areas so that no one can see what kind of stone they actually are. They cast the spell and wait for the result to reveal itself.

 It takes much longer than Lexa anticipated but they pass the time chatting and laughing and even though Lexa should feel scared right now because of the potential disastrous outcome, she is with Clarke and when she is with Clarke she always feels just right. And for once she doesn’t feel guilty about it.

She feels emboldened and lets herself sit just a little bit closer. And when Clarke tips her head back and laughs at something she said, Lexa feels compelled to lay an investigative hand on Clarke’s thigh beneath the table. When Clarke reddens, but doesn’t pull always Lexa feels the chasm from earlier start to fill itself. Clarke smiles at her so softly, so beautifully. And Lexa thinks it would so easy to kiss her. It always feels so easy to kiss her. And that is what makes this hard. That is when the guilt takes over and runs rampant. It’s what made her run away last night.

She doesn’t want to feel guilty anymore. That’s really why she made the love potion.

Lexa debates it for a hot second. And ultimately pulls back her hand. She watches the light in Clarke eyes dull a bit. They don’t speak for a few moments.

Niylah cuts the tension like a nomaege baseball bat through a pumpkin.

“Hey, ladies. Something wrong?”

“No.” They both reply in unison.

“Ok, well. I just wanted…to say goodbye Clarke. I'll see you later? We'll be set up by the fountain just like every year." Niylah let's her gaze drop for a half second before she seemingly regains confidence. "You look really pretty today.” She says with a smile.

Lexa feels her fingernails dig into her own thighs and wishes she had been brave enough to keep her hand on Clarke’s thigh just a little bit longer. Then Niylah would never had said that.

Clarke gives a polite nod and “Thanks” to Niylah before resuming her silence.

Niylah stares into Clarke’s very being for a moment before Lexa finally snaps a “Bye” in the direction of the barmaid. She watches Niylah give once last longing look at Clarke before she conjures a coat and stalks out the door of the tavern.

Just then the circle of quartz glows a deep maroon into a fading a pink. The maroon is a common indicator that there is trace magic in the vicinity. But the change in color means it wasn’t the magic they were targeting. No homing magic was used.

Clarke breaks the silence. “So somebody in the tavern this morning, specifically someone sitting or visiting at our table, had used a spell.”

“Someone _we know_ used a spell to get the potion?”

“From your pocket, yea.”

 _Floating buckets!_ The epiphany hits Lexa like a well-placed spell.

“She took it, Clarke.” Lexa rasps under her breath.

“Who?”

“Niylah. She took the potion.”

Clarke. Laughs. At. Her.

“Clarke she was all over you.”

Clarke laughs ever harder. “Lexa. Dear Lexa.” Clarke tries to make her face serious, but just ends up laughing again, a deep belly laugh that makes her gasp for air. “She _always_ flirts with me.” When Clarke is able to catch her breath again she simply gives Lexa an encouraging pat on the wrist. “I’ve never known you without grief Lexa. So I don’t know if you’ve always been this oblivious or it’s a side effect of sadness. But yea Niylah has asked me out a couple times.”

“Did you ever say yes?”

Clarke laughs again. But it’s light and sweet. And god it makes Lexa’s toes curl even though Clarke’s making fun of her.

“You know, Lex. Sometimes you’re hard for me to read. But right now this…” Clarke extends a finger into the space surrounding Lexa, her aura. “…is a kaleidoscope of jealousy.” She lets her finger fall and it brushes against Lexa bicep. “It’s a nice change from the black soup that usually swims around you.”

“If I’m so sad all the time why do you like me?”

“You’re more than just you’re grief, Lexa. I think you’re figuring that out.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means lately grief is not the only emotion I’ve noticed swirling around you lately. But gotta say I think I like jealousy the most. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

Lexa snorts. “Clarke.”

“Seriously. I like it.” Clarke finishes gathering the ingredients and stuffing them into her bottomless bag. She snaps her fingers and the bag is gone.

“You want me to be jealous?”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ with purpose, tiny little green bubbles floating around her, that beautiful smile doing things to continue to fill the pit that Niylah had dug earlier. “It means Mrs. Dickle was wrong. And I do love it when she’s wrong.”

“Now, come on, hotstuff.” Clarke boops her on the nose playfully with her index finger. “We got a mystery to solve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here to TUMBLE](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paintthebrain) with me.
> 
> Apologies to those who are reading my other fics. This story has just taken over me and consumed me. Almost like I downed a love spell. XD I know halloween is over, but I can't stop writing it. But I do promise a touch or carry update soon.
> 
> As always thanks for being here!


	5. Can't Be Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More vocab! Yay!  
> Mystsex – the process of achieving orgasm by channeling magic through one’s syno. Either on one’s self or another willing participant.  
> Candlin – Magical creatures in the pixie family that have flaming hair and waxy wings.  
> Synotes - text messages for maeges. Composed by thinking the message, touching their temple, and then touching the stone in their syno.

They sit on a bench outside a shop. The bells from the Old Salem clock tower sing their late afternoon song. People, maege and no-maege alike, chat on their way to and from the annual Fall Festival across the way. The wind ripples through, pulling at coats and hats, waving the decorative cornstalks along the street, and drawing bits of hay from the bales that serve as make shift benches during tourist season here in Salem.  It’s a perfect autumn symphony tarnished only by the crinkling of paper as Lexa scratches across it with a piece of marred graphite.

 “Who else was at or near our table?” Clarke asks

“So far I have. Anya. Raven. Gustus. Indra. _Niylah._ ” Lexa says the last name with a little bit of venom.

“It wasn’t Niylah. I’m sure.” There’s a giggle hidden behind the words. It makes Lexa pout.

“Fine. Then all that leaves is Octavia and Lincoln. But we can rule them out since they are already in love with each other and…”

“…a love potion doesn’t work on somebody already in love. I know.” It’s a little annoyed and clipped as it comes out of Clarke’s mouth.”

“Clarke, listen I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

She softens. “I know that too, Lexa. I want to be here. It’s fine.” She scoots a little closer to Lexa in order to point at the page. “Ready to interrogate the first suspect?” She taps at the first name on the page. Anya.

Lexa looks up at the sign they’d been sitting under. A simple number 9.

She remembers trying to decide what to name the shop. This shop. Their shop. Hers and Costia’s. The shop that sold wholesome brews, useful potions, and innocuous ingredients to maeges year-round and silly souvenirs to the plethora of nomaege tourists that came through Old Salem Town. She remembers slightly regretting naming their cat Recipe for Disaster because that would have been a perfect name for a potions shop. But Costia ever the nomaege sympathizer simply titled it 9. After the nomaege belief that a cat has nine lives. And because nomaeges are obsessed with something they call love potion no 9. It was simple but brilliant. And very much Costia.

She remembers Costia turning to her in the empty shop as the realtor rambled on about location, location, location. Lexa will never forget the reverent look on Costia’s face when she said “This is it. This is the one.” And how she discreetly began designing the layout, where each type of potion would go, where she would put the register, the brew room, the office. The best part in Lexa’s mind was the apartment above the shop. It was efficient. One rent instead of two. Costia was good with the big picture. Lexa was better at the little pragmatic pieces that added up.

Costia’s family brewed potions for Old Salem Town for generations. Since before the trials. Costia loved potions the way she loved nomaeges. The way she loved everything. Brilliant and vibrant and strong.  Lexa learned a few things about brewing; how to simmer a cauldron, when to add ingredients, how to prepare them, but she preferred the numbers. She liked maintaining the books, keeping the inventory. She liked the simple truths in the little details that came with running a small shop. Lexa was more serious than Costia. She’s more serious than most. With the exception of Costia’s sister, Anya.

Anya took over when Costia died, believing it was her duty to keep the family recipes going.  Lexa stayed on as a silent partner. Lexa tried to stay away from the shop, but seeing as she lives above it, it was nearly impossible. It took some time, but she was able to walk inside again. It was a heady mix of pain and joy at first. But now it’s a little more of the latter. The grief not as potent as it once was. Maybe Clarke was right. Maybe she is more than her grief.

Clarke snaps Lexa out of her reverie by taking the list of suspects from her hand, fingers brushing assuredly, and folds the paper into her pocket. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“We’ll figure it out. Come on.” Clarke grabs her hand and pulls her up.

\--

The door chimes with a tinny peal. And if that wasn’t enough to announce their entrance, a spray of shooting stars zips around the shop to herald their arrival.

“Be right with you!” Anya’s voice sounds strangely panicky

“Take your time, Ahn.” Clarke steps further into the shop, she fidgets with her syno absentmindedly.

“Clarke?”

“Yea.”

“Is Lexa with you?”

“Yea.”

A loud crash resounds from the back, Anya barks a shaky “Float!”

Lexa looks up from scanning the shelves, looking for the tiny bottle with the thin neck, bulbous bottom, and little cork stopper. “Are you ok?” She calls toward the back area, the place where Anya does all the brewing. Costia called it the brew room.

Anya pokes her head out. Her usually smooth blonde waves are frizzy. “Yea. Just making some Bangbang Juice.” She looks back in to the backroom anxiously. “You know the Whippercabs can be a bit cantankerous.” Another loud crash. Red bubbles float around the room. “I’ll be right back.” She’s gone in a literal flash.

Lexa looks to Clark, confusion permeating Lexa’s brow and pulling it down. Clarke has her customary head tilt, the one that heralds the reading of someone’s emotions. Her eyes are wide and her grin is tucked deep into her cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anya flustered before.” Lexa says, still confused. “She seem off to you?”

“Getting off.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clarke laughs. Her smile finally bursting free from its deliberate restraint.

Just then a loud mewling comes from behind one of the wall. Lexa flexes her fingers and her syno blazes a brilliant green for a moment. A small wooden panel opens in the wall and Recipe slinks out. His tail twitching as he heads right for his special spot between two towering shelves of potions.

The corner Costia made just for him. She had painstakingly carved out tunnels that led from the apartment upstairs to the shop just so he could be with Costia even when she was working.

She loved that cat so much.

Recipe’s corner has plush carpeted platforms, crawl spaces, pillowed nooks, fleece-lined crannies, and catwalks. Everything a cat could dream of, but Recipe makes a bee-line for his favorite spot. Leaping up and across the structures.

Five little bottles are lined up in a row on the top-most platform. He sits on his haunches, gives Lexa _that_ look, then knocks a bottle to the ground. He watches it descend, paws nearly tipping over the edge to see it, but just before it hits the floor it hovers then floats back up to another a platform, righting itself perfectly. Soon the 4 other bottles have joined it, Recipe’s tail flicking happily as he makes his way over to repeat the process again.

“Sorry about that, ladies.” Anya enters the room looking much more composed. “What can I help you with?”

Lexa steps forward and quickly whispers in Clarke’s ear. “Let me handle the questions.” Because Clarke is smart and she and Anya get along well, but she doesn’t know Anya as good as Lexa does.

Clarke rolls her eyes and gestures for Lexa to go ahead. “By all means.”

Lexa turns her attention back to Anya. “We just wanted to stop by. See if you were going to the festival.” Lexa says tentatively.

“Um, yea. I was gonna meet up with Raven…” Anya says it almost likes she surprised and quickly follows it up with “And Indra. Yea, um, they’re both working. Raven’s got a stand. Indra’s working security for the Council. They made me promise to visit when we were at brunch this morning. I told them both I’d come say hi once I closed the shop.” Red bubbles appear briefly; Anya ignores them as she busies herself with the end of day activities. Counting the money. Locking away the more illicit ingredients. They all fall silent for a time. Recipe continues his little game. Lexa tries to think of her next question.

“Why would Indra want you to visit her if she’s working? You know the Elder Council gets butthurt if any of their guard are caught fraternizing while on duty.” Clarke says matter-of-factly

Lexa gives her a warning glare. Clarke just shrugs her shoulders.

Anya doesn’t answer, but Lexa can see a tiny conflict occurring within her sister-in-law.

Clarke takes the opportunity while Anya is distracted to whisper into Lexa’s ear. “If you’re gonna handle the questions you might want to ask some.”

Lexa scoffs. “Fine.” She thinks for a moment. Thinks about the little things she’s missed in the past few minutes. The little details begin to fall into place. “So, Anya, anyone you’re interested in?”

Anya flat out chokes on nothing. “What? Why? Did someone say something?” Anya tries to recover, tries to appear nonchalant, but Lexa doesn’t need to be an empath to see through the charade. The conflict, her flustered nature. She may not be guilty but she is acting suspicious. Lexa has always struggled with the big picture but this is minutia. The answers are in the subtleties.

When Anya doesn’t reply, Lexa continues her interrogation. “What lengths would you go to have this person like you back?”

Anya’s expression is blank. Her eyes shift from left to right. It’s guilty. She’s guilty.

“Ok, Inspector, I think that’s enough of ‘handling the questions. You’re worse than the Old Guard.” Clarke says as she grabs Lexa’s arm and pulls her toward a row of growth potions.

She lowers her voice as she speaks, Anya left standing in the distance. “Geez, Lex. Could you be anymore heavy-handed?”

Lexa simply shifts her eyes to one of the potions on the shelf. It’s a squat bottle with a picture of the nomaege president on it. In neat scrawl underneath the picture is the phrase ‘Got tiny hands? Try Yuge Hands. Full extra knuckle-length with one sip!’

 She connects her gaze back with Clarke’s inquisitive blue. “I’m simply trying to get answers, Clarke.”

“And give yourself away in the process?”

“It wouldn’t matter. Anya would never tell. We’ve been through too much together. Besides, Anya prefers frankness.”

“You’re sure?”

Lexa simply nods.

“Well, in that case….” Clarke’s bright, mischievous smile tickles at Lexa’s belly button, pulling it back toward her spine. Clarke turns abruptly back toward Anya who is still straightening up the shop. “Yo, Ahn! Anyone you got a jones for so bad that you‘d be willing to break a century-old decree while at the same time stealing from your sister’s widow?”

“WHAT?!”

* * *

 

What started as a group discussion about the possible culprit ( _It’s not floating me or Raven, Lexa_ ), quickly devolved into a verbal sparring match between the two best friends, Clarke and Lexa, with Anya pushed to the sidelines.

They explained everything. Lexa left out the details she wasn’t quite willing to share with _either_ woman. Anya took it better than Lexa thought she would. Stoic and stern she absorbed every word like a champ and even gave Lexa the occasional ‘It’s okay’ and ‘I understand’ which caused Lexa to open up even more. She tells Anya their list of suspects.

Now Clarke and Lexa are locked in an argument and Lexa’s not even sure why except that she loves this.

They are bickering back and forth. Lexa can feel Anya’s eyes on her. Watching them. But going toe-to-toe with Clarke is not something Lexa could ever resist. It’s been like this since day one. And here they are 366 days later. And Lexa’s a little bit in love with the way Clarke matches her. It’s different. Not better. Not worse. Just compelling. “Be reasonable, Clarke.” Lexa chances a glance at Anya. She’s still watching them keenly, but there is a hint of a smile on her face.

“When you stop being a jackass, Lexa.”

“I am not a jackass.” She regrets it as soon as she says it, but when Clarke snaps her fingers, her syno flashing a dazzling indigo, Lexa wishes she could will the words back into her mouth. Her mouth that is now elongated and covered in grey fur. She can feel her ears stretch and hollow out. Her arms become another set of legs and her spine stretches into a tail. Lexa’s syno slips off her hoof and falls to the floor.

“Now you are!” Clarke bursts with laughter, gasping and heaving. Anya is barking with amusement, doubled over with a pained look on her face, tears of mirth flowing freely.

Lexa demands for Clarke to change her back, but it just comes out as a squeaky bray. And the two other women fall to their knees with laughter.

Lexa moves quickly. In a second, her donkey body is standing over Clarke. Clarke falls back on to her rear, supporting herself with her elbows, legs stretched under lexa’s haunches. Lexa presses her snout down and towards Clarke. Doing her best to glare even though her eyes are on the side of her head and not forward. Clarke continues to chuckle as she snaps her fingers again.

The room immediately quiets.

Clarke is still reclining on the floor. Lexa is Lexa again. Now that she’s no longer a donkey, she’s planked above Clarke. She stares deep into those blue eyes and it feels like last night all over again. She can feel the heat escaping Clarke’s skin. So close. And yet not close enough. If she just lowered herself, if she fit herself between Clarke’s legs, maybe then...

Lexa feels a spark hit her in the apex between her thighs. She masks the clenching of them by reaching over and picking up her syno from the floor.

“Don’t do that again.” Lexa chokes out. Affected. Always affected by Clarke.

Clarke’s face is blank, distant. Whimsical. Then she blinks furiously. “Um, yea, ok. Sorry.” A trace of a smile returns. “I’ll send Indra and Raven a Synote. Ask them where they’ll be.” She gives Lexa a craving look before hiding it behind a smile. “Be right back.” Clarke stands and heads for Recipe’s corner.

“What was that?”

Lexa forgot Anya was there. In her own shop.

“What was what?”

“That.” Gestures with two fingers from her eyes to Lexa’s. “You guys practically had Mystsex just now.”

“It was nothing.”

“Oh and here I thought you’d finally figured out you like Clarke as more than just a friend.”

“Do not.”

For a moment, Anya doesn’t push it. She just observes her. Watches Lexa shift on her feet and fight the desire to look towards Clarke. Anya has watched them dance around each other since the moment they met. Lexa too afraid to fall again, Clarke too kind to push her. Both sinking into habits and calling it friendship.

“She would approve.”

“What?”

“Costia. She would approve of Clarke.”

Lexa stares down at her feet guiltily. And Anya knows now why Lexa made the potion. Anya looks to the corner and watches as Recipe gives up his game to seek Clarke’s attention.

“Do you know the story of the Gallows? Specifically, Katherine Runkle?” Anya asks quietly.

“The only maege accused of witchcraft that wasn’t hung on the tree?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?” Lexa pulls at the collar of her jacket, sneaking a glance at Clarke playing with Recipe in between synotes.

“ My great great…many greats ago…grandfather was there. He watched helplessly as they led her to the tree. Katherine had lived in Salem her whole life. She gave selflessly to the people of the town. She was caught healing a nomaege child. An infraction even the Council forbids.

“They say before she died, as the noose was slung around her neck she gave up her life. She slumped forward dead before the noose was even tightened. Legend says she embued her magic, her essence into the closest living thing. The tree. That’s why it grows strong even after almost 350 years. It’s not her but it takes care of us like she would.”

Anya waits for all the to sink in. Waits for Lexa to process all that before she drives her point home.

“If Costia left any of her essence behind, it would be in that cat.” She points to the corner. Recipe has both paws on Clarke’s chest. He is placing loving headbutts to her chin and cheeks. His purring is loud enough to be heard from where they are standing. “He obviously approves.”

Lexa lets the hope surge through her chest at the implications. “Do you?” The words surprise her, but she finds herself wanting to know anyway.

Anya steps forward and gives Lexa a rare touch of affection. “I want you to be happy. Costia would too. Hell she probably would have made you that love potion herself if she thought it would help you move on.”

“You really think I have a shot?” 

“You really are an oblivious little Bundt cake aren’t you?”

“Bundt cake?” Lexa says crossing her arms and leaning away from Anya’s touch.

“Yep. You are a spongy concentrated cake with character soaking up life's little bits of caramel sauce, but you have a hole in the center. You can see all the little details, Lexa, but you’re missing the middle. You are missing the heart of the matter.”

 Anya sighs and puts an arm fully around her sister-in-law. “I think you have more than just a shot if you’re brave enough to take it.” She squeezes Lexa. “Come on. I’ll walk with you two to the festival. I want to know how this whole thing ends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolz don't we all Anya?  
> Except me. I already know. XD teehee
> 
> follow me on  
> [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paintthebrain)  
> for behind the scenes and other gay stuff
> 
> Fun fact: it's my birthday


	6. One Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter with some cute little magical flirting fluff before we get to the second half of this fic.

They make their way easily over to the festival. The sun is setting, creeping slowly below the horizon. Old fashion gas lamps light their way through the crowds. The paved sidewalks give way to little dirt paths through the park. On either side, tall trees carve themselves out of the ground and toward the sky. Their little brown fingers grasping at the dying light.

Anya walks a few steps ahead of them, a confident purposeful stride. Lexa matches her own gait with Clarke’s. She wants to blurt out: ‘Do I really have a shot, Clarke? Do you have feelings for me?’ Instead she quietly says, “I think Anya is telling the truth. But she was definitely acting weird.”

Clarke stops mid-stride, pulling Lexa back by the hand, making her swivel on her feet. The action causes them to collide, Clarke’s hips aligning with hers. Lexa gulps. Clarke looks away with a shy smile putting a few inches of space between them, but she doesn’t release her grip on Lexa’s hand. She looks to Anya to check to see if she is out of ear shot. “You know I don’t usually talk about others’ emotions but Anya’s aura read like a nomaege porn star.” Clarke resumes walking, tucking her arm into Lexa’s.

“What is that? A porn star?” Lexa relaxes into Clarke’s touch. Speaking casually as they stroll.

Clarke just laughs gently and shakes her head. “Desire, Lexa. I’m pretty sure she was going at it with someone when we came into the shop.”

Lexa stutters in her step. “Oh.” She continues her brisk pace, holding tighter onto Clarke’s arm. “Yea, that makes much more sense than Anya suddenly feeling like she needed to steal a love potion.”

Clarke turns to her. “Yea girl’s got more game than Hasbro.”

Lexa looks over to Clarke questioningly. Clarke rolls her eyes. “Hasbro, Lexa. A major nomaege board game company.” She bumps Lexa with her hip playfully. “Seriously, wasn’t your wife a renown nomaege advocate?”

Lexa goes quiet. Clarke immediately looks contrite. “Sorry.” She moves to take her arm away from Lexa.

Lexa squeezes Clarke’s arm so she can’t remove it and pulls her in closer. “You don’t have to be, Clarke.”

Clarke tilts her head, reading Lexa’s aura. After a second she lets a shy smile escape. “It’s just – You don’t talk about her. Everything I know about her I learned through Anya. Costia...” She says it hesitantly, like the very syllables might break Lexa. Careful, but confident she continues. “She was important you. And anything that was important to you I want to know about.”

Lexa nudges Clarke with her shoulder, acknowledging the blonde’s trepidation. “I’ll keep that in mind, Clarke.” She tries to give Clarke her most comforting smile.

They fall into silence, each warm and contented, as they pass through the nomaege section of the festival. Plastic stands are filled to the brim with gourds and pumpkins. Cider is sold at every 10 feet or so. Vendors hock little artificial novelties shaped like what they think ghosts look like. One vendor is dressed like an archaic representation of a witch, green skin, warts, and a pointy black hat. Lexa scoffs at the naivety. “Witches haven’t existed in that form since the middle ages. When most black magics were outlawed.”

“And corruption from the magic ran rampant, turning witches into dark unspeakable beings. Causing persecution at every turn.” Clarke says, her tone good-humored and intentionally dramatic. She waves her hands radically through the air. “We denounced the name Witch and went into hiding! It was a dark time for us alllllll!” She finishes her histrionic demonstration with a flourish, bowing to the nomaege pedestrians that had stopped to watch her show.

“Mockery isn’t the product of a strong mind, Clarke.” Lexa says trying to conceal a smile.

“OOOOO. Maybe! Maybe a traveler from the future tipped our ancestors off about the Middle Ages. Perhaps that’s how we got our current name. M-iddle AGES. Mages. Threw in an Extra e for emphasis.” Clarke tucks her arm back into Lexa’s and resumes walking.

“Maeges is actually derived from Latin.”

“You never let me forget that you speak sevral tongues, do you?”

It’s been a while since she flirted, but Lexa gives it a harrowing attempt. “I can do a lot of things with my tongue, Clarke.”

Clarke trips and nearly falls. Lexa catches her. When she rights Clarke again she innocently asks “What’s wrong, Clarke? Did I say something troubling?”

Clarke narrows her eyes attempting to admonish Lexa, but her smile betrays her. “You know exactly what you said.”

Lexa smirks victoriously. “Why Clarke, are you experiencing pornstar right now?”Lexa straightens her shoulders. readying for their back and forth she loves so much, but Clarke just looks at her bewildered for a moment. Then she laughs heartily.

“Porn star is not a synonym for lust, Lexa. It’s someone who might be likely to experience lust.”

Lexa flushes an embarrassed crimson. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Ok.”

“You are so cute when you’re confused.” Lexa doesn’t imagine it this time. She sees it. She feels it. Clarke places a feather-light kiss on the apple of her cheek.

Oh yeah Lexa definitely has a shot.

If she’s brave enough to take it

Clarke turns and starts walking backwards, pulling lexa by their entwined hands toward a pair of sycamore trees a little further down the path. “Come on. The boundary is over here this year.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol Sidenote: confused Lexa is my favorite. In canonverse, I just imagine Clarke causally mentioning terms and the Commander just using them in all the wrong ways.
> 
> What do you think? Will Lexa be brave enough? Will Clarke be patient enough? Who was Anya getting it on with? WHAT THE FECK HAPPENED TO THE POTION?
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paintthebrain)


	7. Should Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUSPICIOUS MUSIC

The world fizzles out behind them and a new one appears. Gone are flocks of tourists tripping over each other to get to Halloween themed confections. Instead there are throngs of gnouts tripping over their snouts to peddle their packages of Mintols. Swarms of candlins float lazily down cobble stone paths lighting the nooks and crannies between the hardwood stands.

The night is dark but still young.

And Lexa feels light. And alive.

Clarke still clings to her in all the best ways.

They move in tandem toward the heart of the festival - a courtyard with multicolored bricks forming a perfect circle. Cobblestone paths similar to the one they are currently on radiate out from a large ornate fountain in the center like rays from a sun. The fountain flows freely, candlins reflect in the rippling water lighting up the entire courtyard. A small orchestra is at the foot of the fountain spinning a peppy tavern song.

Clarke steps into the courtyard and turns to Lexa. “Care to dance?”

“You know I don’t dance, Clarke.”

The corners of Clarke’s mouth edge themselves up mischievously. “Worth a shot.”

Lexa just purses her lips and takes Clarkes hand confidently. “Come on, let’s see if we can find Anya.”

They move toward the fountain pulling away from each other slightly, both searching the mob for any telltale sign of Anya. A few candlins gather above them, hovering like a small cloud on fire. Lexa can’t see Anya, even if it weren’t for the clusters of maeges and gnouts and other magical creatures milling about the courtyard, all she can really focus on is the way the firelight falls so softly on Clarke’s face.

Clarke stops scanning the writhing, wriggling mass and looks directly at Lexa. Clarke holds her gaze for several long seconds before Lexa becomes self-conscious. “What?” Lexa’s smile fades a bit under the uncertainty.

But Clarke’s only grows. She steps closer to Lexa, but without touching this time. She simply tilts her head to the side and makes a nod of assent, like she just came to a conclusion she already knew.

Lexa repeats herself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She looks closely at Clarke. She watches as Clarke bites her lower lip in an attempt to reign her own smile in. Lexa watches helplessly as Clarke’s eyes fall to her lips. Lexa pulls them in wetting them subconsciously. So easy. It would be so easy.

Too easy.

Lexa’s about to pull away when Clarke lightly cups her cheek. Rubbing a thumb across it.

“I didn’t mean to stare, Lex. You’re just really beautiful.”

The bubbles that appear above Clarke’s head are a deep, bright green.

“Oh.”

Clarke leans forward, filling more of Lexa’s space, senses, heart. She continues to cup Lexa’s cheek as she pulls her in. Lexa’s syno feels hot against her own palm. Clarke’s lips break free from the hold her teeth had on them and her grin comes closer, ever closer to Lexa’s own.

“I oughtta turn Titus into a bag of dicks!”

Welp.

They found Anya.

Lexa tries not to let her disappointment show.

“Motherfloater dismissed me. He _dismissed_ me, like I’m one of his Jackhole guards!” Anya’s fists are clenched at her side. She pushes forward the three steps it takes to get to Clarke and Lexa. A few maeges stand between them, unmoving in her pursuit, she shoulders through. “Get out of my way or I’ll turn you lot into a bag of dicks, too! A garbage bag!” She says to one of the maeges that gives her a particularly nasty glare. She throws up a rude hand gesture in his direction and then turns back to Clarke and Lexa. “Oh hey, Marv.” Her tone instantly softening to greet her favorite gnout as he walks past them. He tips a bowler hat with his snout as a stubby arm hands her a pack of Mintols. Her scowl immediately returns as the impish creature goes about his business.

“Hey.” She says hotly as she comes to a full stop in front of Clarke and Lexa.

Anya’s scowl widens into a wicked grin as she realizes what Lexa forgot. That she is still currently locked in a rather intimate embrace with Clarke.

Lexa just rolls her eyes and takes a step back from Clarke.

Anya let’s out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Lovebirds. Raven’s stand is down here.”

Anya steps between them, lightly grabbing Lexa by the bicep and laying a reassuring hand on Clarke’s shoulder as she guides them over to one of the cobblestone spokes radiating off the brick courtyard.

Small torches add light to the few candlins suspended in the air along the path.

Clarke clears her throat. “What did Titus do exactly? To warrant being turned into a sack of phalluses?”

Anya sighs. “I should have known better. I tried to talk to Indra while she was on duty. He was on me like fire on a candlin.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I thought maybe he would be different since he was borderline friendly this morning.”

Clarke stops entirely. “Oh my god.”

Anya stops too, seemingly understanding Clarke’s epiphany. “Float.”

“What?” Lexa is utterly confused. “Guys? What is happening?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this until now.” Anya and Clarke say in unison.

“Think of what?”

“Titus. He was at the table this morning.”

“That’s impossible, Clarke. If he had taken it don’t you think I would be arrested by now?”

“Maybe. But he was acting odd.”

“How so?”

Anya responds first. “As soon as you got up to go to the bathroom, he came over. He talked to Indra at first to remind her about the festival schedule. You know, his usual stern self. Then he said something to Raven, asking her if she would be willing to help some of his guards. Apparently a few of the new recruits got a nasty deformity caused by a hex while on assignment in Turkey.”

Clarke continues the story. “And then he said hi to Lincoln and Octavia. He almost smiled. By the time he got to me he was super chummy. He asked something about auras. I think it was the friendliest I’ve, or anyone, has ever seen him. And then…”

Lexa leans forward a bit to hear Clarke words that are so quiet now. “Go on.”

“And then he asked about you. If you’ve mentioned any changes lately.”

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t know exactly what to say. Because I wasn’t sure if I said no if he would be able to tell it was a lie.”

“But I haven’t mentioned any changes.”

“But you are changing.”

“Oh.”

“Relax, Lexa it’s not a bad thing. Like I said I’ve noticed more than just grief hanging over you lately. You seem happier.”

“I am.” Lexa says finally stepping around Anya so she’s facing Clarke.

Clarke blushes. “Well Good. That’s good.”

Anya just looks between the two of them and laughs heartily.

Lexa gives a knowing look to Anya and nods her head in the direction of raven’s stand, silently asking for some space.

Anya smiles. “You’re dismissing me now too?”

“Only for a minute.” Lexa says. “We’ll be right there.”

Anya nods meaningfully, “Yeah. Yeah.” And starts walking down the path. “No mystsex in public!” She calls over her shoulder.

Lexa playfully narrows her eyes.

As soon as Anya is out of earshot, Lexa steps into Clarke’s space.

This time Lexa is the one to brush a kiss to Clarke’s cheek. “I am happier, Clarke.” They stand there staring at each other for a brief moment: Clarke in awe and Lexa trying hard to keep her nerve. “So anything else happen?”

“Raven came over and sat down next to me. I think she was trying to deflect. She told him to bring his affected guards to her stand tonight. He nodded and left. Then Raven told me a joke about how she thought he was the one with the deformity. On his wanker.”

A soft laugh escapes Lexa. “And that’s when I came back from the bathroom.”

“Yes.” The little green bubbles are back, popping silently over Clarke’s head.

“So I guess he goes on the suspect list now.”

“I guess so. But why do you think he would ask that? About you? Have you noticed a change?”

Besides feeling an infinite burden lifted off her shoulders? Not really. Lexa thinks hard. The fountain continues it watery song and the candlins continue to weave delicately through the air. A moment passes and she thinks about how much better she feels admitting to herself that she has feelings for Clarke. With Anya’s encouragement of course. And she knows somewhere, if Costia was watching, she would be happy, too. Lexa finally believes that. That being with Clarke wouldn’t dishonor Costia’s memory. She believes that they can occupy an equal space in her heart. And that’s a change. A big change.

Lexa is pulled out of her thoughts by warm arms around her waist. “I’m happier too, Lexa.” Clarke says. The bubbles that lift and hover over her head are the deepest brightest green that Lexa’s ever seen. And it occurs to her finally.

“Bubbles.”

Clarke laughs. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

“No, Clarke. Bubbles. Can you see bubbles when I speak?”

“No.”

“They are the change then. I’ve started seeing bubbles when people talk. I didn’t think anything of it, because you know. Magical world and all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It started this morning. Just now when you told me you were happy. And earlier when you told me….I was beautiful.” Lexa blushes and starts walking toward Raven’s stand to distract herself. “I saw green bubbles. I also saw them when you said you didn’t take the potion.” Lexa’s eyes move back and forth. Images floating through her mind. “But when you told Gustus we were doing a locator spell, the bubbles were red. They were also red when Anya was talking about brewing Bangbang juice. What do you think they mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Clarke says. “I just know that Titus is a suspect now.”

Lexa laughs dryly. “The old man would probably take the potion just to watch me squirm as he interrogated me.”

“Is it an interrogation if he already knows if you’re lying?”

Almost as if on cue, Lexa feels a chill up her spine and the sensation of being watched. It’s the same sensation she has gotten for the last few years, ever since Titus started popping up everywhere. Costia used to tease her, lovingly call her paranoid, because Titus was Old Guard. It was his job to be everywhere. To know everything.

The sensation spreads from her spine to her limbs. She knows he’s there before she even sees him. At the edge of the path and covered mostly in shadow, made further inconspicuous by his gray robes, is Titus. The torchlight flickers off his bald head illuminating the tell-tale tattoos. The ones reserved only for the highest-ranking members of the Elder Council’s minions.

Their eyes connect in the dark. And Lexa feels it in her bones. She was right to be suspicious of him. She holds his gaze and defiantly glares back.

And for the first time ever he looks away.

She can feel Clarke turn to look in his direction. “What are you staring at?” Titus is moving away at a fevered pace. The crowd parting because of his status. “What was that about?”

“He knows something.” Lexa is sure.

Clarke looks back to Lexa. “About the potion?”

“I don’t know. But there’s something he’s not telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!   
> SO MANY MYSTERIES TO SOLVE!  
> also, yay brave Lexa
> 
> This fic is such a blast to write. Thanks for being here homies!


	8. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to Raven's stand. Secrets are revealed. Lexa finds out something she didn't know about herself.

Raven’s stand is four posts with boards slatted halfway up three sides. Canvas stretches the rest of the way up to the crossbeams to create walls. Velvet in every shade and hue is draped across any stationary surface. A small purple exam table made of leather rests in the middle. Soft, plumpy chairs fill the corners for the patients to sit in while waiting to be seen.

Anya is already lounging in one, eyes narrowed and fixed on Raven as she drifts her syno over the thigh of a handsome young guard. His thigh deflates to a normal size and he throws a charming smile at his savior. She gives him a pat on his newly mended leg. Anya crosses her arms and looks away as Raven stands to greet them. She limps over to them, arms outstretched for a hug.

Raven is a Vincrist. She cures magical maladies.

Lexa remembers meeting raven for the very first time.

_The hangman’s tree at The Gallows was lit up with lanterns dangling from the ropes. The world kept moving. And Lexa just sat in the eddy watching it pass. Life didn’t seem like life without Costia. Anya said some things about her new friend, the one they were there to meet, but Lexa didn’t completely register them. She pushed a napkin back and forth with her fingertips wondering how long she had to stay before she could leave._

_Raven swept into the bar with a trembling autumn wind. Lexa watched the smile appear on Anya’s face. It’s been awhile since she or Lexa had smiled like that. She turned to greet Anya’s new friend. That’s when she noticed the limp. She didn’t really think anything of it until she finally registered something Anya had said about Raven._

_“You’re a Vincrist.” Lexa blurted. There wasn’t a maege alive that kept their deformities. They went to Vincrists like Raven to cure hexes, spell gone awry, and other means of magical maledictions._

_Raven chuckled. “Nice to meet you too.”_

_Lexa went rigid. “No sorry. It’s nice to meet you as well. I was just…I’m…”_

_Anya elbowed her side. “Be cool, Lexa.”_

_Raven looked down at her knee and then back up to Lexa. “You’re wondering why I have a limp if I have the power to heal it?”_

_Lexa exhaled. “Well, yea. Sorry.”_

_“Don’t worry about it. I get it all the time.” Raven took her cloak off and hung it on the chair that Anya had pulled out for her. “I keep it as a reminder.” She sat and stretched out her leg, pulling up her pant leg revealing a dark puckering scar. “This is where I come from. This is where I started. This is why I am a healer.” She turned to Lexa with a beaming smile that naturally warmed the whole room. “Sometimes we need to keep our scars in order to remind us of what once was.”_

_Lexa swallowed thickly. That struck a chord with her._

_Lexa stopped counting the days Costia had been gone after the first week. Instead, she pretended that her grief was the same as having Costia there, by holding onto that pain she could keep Costia alive._

_It was an amputation. A phantom limb. Costia was not gone. Just replaced with a hollowness that Lexa never wanted to fill again. She kept the pain to remind her. Because if she still had her heartache, then she still had Costia._

A throat clears and Lexa feels pressure on her shoulder as Clarke prods it with her finger. “You ok there, Champ?” Lexa blinks her eyes as she comes back to this reality. It almost felt like she was back there at the gallows a year ago.

“Where did you go just now?”

“I was thinking.”

Clarke smiles. “Uh oh.”

Lexa chuckles and squeezes the finger that Clarke had poked her with. “Nothing to worry about.” Clarke blushes.

Raven is still standing there waiting for a hug. She wiggles her fingers and raises her eyebrows.

Lexa steps into Raven’s waiting arms. “Hello, Lexa Hexa. Give yo Raven Haven some love.” She embraces lightly. And Raven just squeezes her harder. Enveloping her in her arms and her scent. A strange and familiar scent.

Lexa instinctually takes a curious sniff and then pulls away. “You smell like Whippercabs!” She rounds on her sister-in-law. “Raven. Raven is the one you were pornstarring with in the back of our shop?!”

“Wait. Hold on.” Anya looks just as nervous and discombobulated as she did when Clarke and Lexa had walked into the shop earlier. “I can explain.”

Clarke’s brows lift and her eyes widen, but then she nods and shrugs in one movement. Like duh. Of course Raven and Anya are getting it on.

Lexa takes a deep breath. “You don’t need to explain. I get it. You’re both consenting adults. You get along so well. The chemistry. You were bound to get it on. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I just don’t understand all the secrecy.”

Lexa has never seen Anya so vulnerable and Raven so utterly absorbed in something other than magical malformations. “Because it’s more than getting it on.” Anya’s shoulders slump for a moment before rising assertively. “We’re together.”

“Like _together_ together?”

“Yea,” Anya confesses.

“Glad that’s all in the open,” Raven says. She puts an arm around Anya and kisses her temple. “So Lexa Hexa I hear you are here to interrogate me about a love potion you made and were too lame to take or give to anyone.”

“Hey!” Lexa shouts. She’s not sure if she’s directing that hey at Anya for telling her secret or at Raven for calling her lame.

“Relax, ya wet potato,” Raven says swishing her cloak around and walking to the back of her stall. “Come sit.” She gestures to the exam table. “Let me have a look at you. It’s been forever since you’ve had a checkup. You can ask me questions about the potion and I can make sure you are in good health.” She tilts Lexa’s arm back and forth pumping her biceps.

“I’ll only need one question.”

Clarke scoffs. “Yea, ok, detective.”

Raven pulls out several odd-looking instruments. She picks up a shiny small cylinder called a Presticorder and places it in the air in front of Lexa’s forehead. It floats around the circumference of Lexa’s head. The data it collects shows up in bright, weird letters and characters on the canvas wall behind them. “Let’s hear it then,” Raven says plucking the instrument out of the air and setting it in front of Lexa’s torso where it begins the same circuitous path as before.

“Are you sure you want to do this in front of them?”

Raven clucks her tongue. She waves her syno. The information from the presticorder gets sucked off the stall wall into her syno. “I have no secrets.” She says with a sly smile. “Not anymore.” She opens her palm revealing her silver and charoite syno. A 3D projection of Lexa’s scan hovers above the purple stone. Raven scrutinizes it closely as it rotates. “You can ask the question, Lexa. I can do many things at once.” She says it suggestively while casting a quick glance at Anya. Anya nearly chokes on the undusted popshake she’s been sipping on. A little of the frothy pink liquid dribbles out of her mouth.

“Gross,” Lexa says. “But fine here’s the question: Do you love her?”

The image of Lexa flickers and dies. Raven stands completely still for a second.

Anya actually does choke on her popshake this time.

Raven’s beside her in a heartbeat, wielding her syno just above Anya’s chest. Anya is instantly able to take a breath. Coughing and sputtering, Anya manages to stammer out “You don’t have to answer that.”

 Raven puts kind hands on the sides of Anya’s face. “Yea, I love her. For as long as I can remember.”

Anya smiles. A deeply furrowed smile filled with joy and rapture. “You do?”

Raven nods.

“Me too.” Anya pulls her in for a deep kiss.

Clarke clears her throat. “Well, that solves that.”

The couple separates. Both with huge grins on their faces. Clarke and Lexa stand as far apart as possible inside the little tent. “Neither of you have motive to steal the potion since you’re both in love.”

Raven nods emphatically still holding on to Anya’s hand. “So who does that leave?”

“Gustus, Indra, and Titus,” Lexa says ticking them off on her fingers.

“Titus? That old bag of dicks?” Raven says.

Anya snorts merrily and pulls Raven into her lap. “I love you,” she says softly.

“Me too.” Raven places a feather-light kiss on Anya’s lips. “Anyway, you can rule Gustus out.”

“Why?”

Raven is now playing with a lock of Anya’s hair, smirking haughtily. “Your suspect list is based off who was at the table this morning correct?”

Lexa nods.

“He wasn’t at the table this morning.”

Lexa throws herself into her memories again. She watches this morning’s events in rewind. From the moment she and Clarke disappeared all the way back to her arrival at The Gallows. “You’re right. Gustus never came to the table. Niylah led me there and filled all our orders.” Lexa gives Clarke a pointed look.

“For the last time, Lex. It’s not Niylah.” Lexa watches the green bubbles float around like they had always been there. Her new normal.

“What makes you so sure?” Raven interjects this time before Lexa has a chance to further argue her point.

Clarke shrugs. “I just know.”

“Oh well, then she’s totally innocent.” Anya waves a hand dramatically in the air, her sarcastic tone wafting to the edges of the tent.

Clarke points to herself. “Faege.”

“Yes, we know.” Anya, Lexa, and Raven say as if they have heard this argument a hundred times before from the handful of Faeges they have met in their lifetime. “But you’re an empath, not Old Guard.”

“Does it matter?” Clarke says starting to get annoyed. They all know Clarke is one of the few Faeges that doesn’t wield her powers like a sword. Holding them over their heads like a guillotine ready to end every argument before they even started.

Lexa knows where this confrontation is coming from.

She takes Clarke’s hand. “I trust you, Clarke.”

Clarke rubs a thumb over the rings of Lexa’s syno, watching the motion reverently. She looks up and Lexa catches a little bit of that awe from this morning. The overwhelming sense that Clarke would do anything for her.

“I’m sorry I made you think otherwise,” Lexa says pulling Clarke’s own syno to her lips and kissing the rings there. 

“I trust you too, Clorkie.” Raven chimes, interrupting the otherwise intimate moment like only Raven can and kisses Clarke’s other hand. “I was just curious that’s all. Now back to the scans.” She smiles and pulls a rotating image of Lexa back up on her syno. There is a small area illuminated near Lexa’s heart, just beneath the sternum.

“What’s that?” Lexa asks.

Raven tilts her head. “Maybe I can’t do so many things at once. Because that can’t be right.” She checks the data again and reforms the scan. The same tiny light is there pulsating in time with Lexa’s heart. “That’s the Pluma’la’pisa.”

“What’s a plooma-la-pizza?” Lexa asks, stumbling through the pronunciation.

“It’s a pool of magic. It’s what Faeges draw on when they use their powers.” Raven is stunned into a rare frown. “When?”

Lexa looks quickly from Raven to Clarke to Anya. “When what?”

Anya is standing now. Her confusion quickly turning to anger. “When did you become a Faege, Lexa?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to 100hearteyes (who totally called the Lexa-is-now-a-faege plot point) 
> 
> I love the speculations! Keep them coming. Just make sure you make a note of it somewhere at the beginning of your comment in case other readers don't want to be influenced by theories.
> 
> Fun Fact: I'm going to Clexacon! Anyone else?
> 
> As always, you guys are the best thing on the internet! I don't know how I go so lucky to have such intelligent and perceptive people reading my stories. Thank you for being here!


	9. You Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tee hee

Anya is standing now. Her confusion quickly turning to anger. “When did you become a Faege, Lexa?”

Lexa takes a step back, fleeing from the confrontation. It’s not possible. She’s 28. All Faeges receive their gift from the Allstone before they’re 25.

Anya jabs a finger at the scan. “If you’re keeping secrets, so help me Lexa…”

“Like you kept from me.” Lexa doesn’t know when she became indignant, but there are few things she cannot tolerate. And hypocrisy is one of them. Lexa points at Raven. “How long were you together? How long were you going to keep it from me?”

The fight instantly falls from Anya. “That was different.”

“How?”

“I didn’t want to rub my happiness in your face.” Anya crosses her arms defensively. “But Lexa if you’re a faege…” She sighs, “I didn’t mean to get angry. I’m worried.”

“I’m not a faege. It’s not possible. I passed the age mark 3 years ago.”

“Lexa.” Clarke is the only one here with any experience in this. “Titus’ inquiries, mysterious bubbles appearing out of nowhere. It’s like when I got my powers. One day people just started glowing. I didn’t understand it until someone from the Council showed up to help me hone them.”

All three of them stare at Lexa. Lexa recalls Clarke’s stories about the branch of the Council that recruits Faeges known simply as the Grain. Most Faeges that are recruited are allowed to come and go as they please as long as they register. Most choose to register and some stay on with the council, but some faeges, like the Old Guard, are required to work for the council for a certain amount of time because of the usefulness of their powers. The others who choose to stay on and work for the council are offered optional opportunities like internships or to study with mentors abroad. That’s how Clarke met Indra. Indra was one of the guards providing security while Clarke studied maeges and faeges with mental illness and emotional disorders in England.

“Do you think Indra would know anything about this?” Lexa asks.

“I think she and Titus are the only people we know that could answer any of these questions.” Clarke says.

Raven and Anya watch the volley between the two best friends.

Lexa continues oblivious. “Funny. They are the last two on the suspect list.”

“You don’t think that’s a coincidence?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Me either.”

“Great! We’ll meet you at the courtyard in a few!” Raven says, finally finding a break in the back and forth.

Clarke looks over her shoulder as raven pushes her and Lexa toward the exit. “Wait. Don’t you wanna help us?”

“Absolutely. But first I have to show my girlfriend how wonderfully in love I am with her. Bye!” With a wink, Raven snaps the curtains shut.

Lexa starts heading back to the courtyard. “They’re cute.”

Clarke tucks her arm into Lexa’s and lays her head on Lexa’s shoulder. “We’re cuter.”

“No you’re not!” Ravens voice calls from behind the curtain.

* * *

 

This new possibility. This chance that she is special. That she is as special as Clarke makes her both uneasy and excited. She doesn’t know what to do. As they walk Lexa feels herself pulled into the past.

_She watches the blonde cross the bar. Instantly, she feels a vibration in her syno and a sparking in her rib cage as her heart beats out a new and fascinating rhythm. The part of her that had felt amputated, the part of her that felt like it was missing began to fill dramatically. Lexa grits her teeth against the sensation. Feeling a sense of guilt for her body’s betrayal. Costia has not been gone very long. And she doesn’t even know this person._

_Anya looks in the direction Lexa is looking and when she sees what Lexa sees a slight grin crosses her face. Raven follows their line of sight too._

_“Hey! You made it!” Raven stands and pulls the blond into a hug. They embrace for a moment both giggling before Raven pushes her out by her shoulders. “You look great! God it’s been too long.”_

_Lexa and Anya are stuck exchanging glances, trying to figure out what is happening._

_“Clarke here has been studying over in England for a while.”_

_Anya chimes out a nice to meet you. Lexa can’t do anything but stare._

_Raven chuckles. “The hot one is Anya.” She sends a wink Anya’s way. “And the broody one is Lexa, Anya’s sister-in-law.” She says matter-of-factly as if Clarke already knows this._

_“Nice to meet you too.” Clarke says to Anya. Clarke offers her synoless hand to Lexa. “Hello, Lexa.”_

_Lexa wants to curl into herself. Instead she takes the hand with her own bare hand, but her syno vibrates with more urgency where it rests on her other palm. Lexa pulls away quickly. Clarke flexes the hand with her syno, brows going tight with temporary confusion before she resumes conversation with Raven._

_Lexa spends the rest of the night scratching under the stone, trying to stop herself feeling the things she’s feeling._

* * *

“Lexa?” Clarke waves her hand in front of her face as they walk.

“I was thinking about the night we met.” Again Lexa shakes off the sensation of being present in that time. Exhaling quickly from her nose to expel the scent of old beer.

“That was quite the night.” Clarke smiles as she rests a hand on Lexa’s waist pulling her in to her side as they walk. “I was…”

Lexa wraps a hand around Clarke’s shoulder and relaxes into the gait. “You were what?” When Clarke doesn’t respond, Lexa gives a little bump with her hip. “Don’t worry you can tell me.”

Clarke nods and takes a step. “I was so into you.”

Lexa squeezes Clarke into her unintentionally, shocked by the news. “I – you were?”

“You had to have known Lexa.” Clarke looks up at her and frowns.

“I didn’t know.” She looks away, hoping Clarke understands. They’ve never talked about this before, and although Lexa wants to, she still finds it difficult. “It was too soon.” Lexa confides. “For me to think about anything like that.”

“Too soon?” Clarke stops them at the edge of the path, the shop and stalls are all starting to close. The vendors heading to the courtyard for the rest of evening’s festivities. Clarke looks down at her feet. “That must have been some love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know why I was there that night?”

“Because you had been gone a long time and wanted to see Raven?”

A small smile appears as Clarke shakes her head. “Of course, but Raven told me that she had a friend that I would definitely want to meet.”

“Anya?”

“You oblivious Bundt Cake. No.”

“That’s what Anya called me.”

“I know. We all call you that.” Clarke turns and starts to walk heading down the spoke again. Lexa follows without thinking about it.

“You were there to meet me?”

“Yes.”

Lexa goes silent.

“Raven said she had made a new friend a few months before I came back and she wanted me to meet her. _That_ friend was Anya. But she told me that Anya had a sister-in-law. That I would really like her...I mean you.”

“But…” Lexa

“She told me that you had a wife. That she passed away two years before.”

“Two years?” Lexa feels a hole rip open, the seams she had silently been stitching.

“Is that not right?”

Lexa hadn’t thought about the date, the actual day Costia died, since they held the Termina ceremony. The finale to a week-long funeral. When the body is presented to the Allstone for favor and then burned on a pyre. She feels herself pulled again.

* * *

 

_She sees herself at the base of the pyre, torch in hand. Anya is beside her. It is a small crowd. And Lexa never had any real family to speak of. None that would come to show their support. Costia’s parents were already dead. They were the only parents Lexa had ever really had._

_Lexa was not a religious person, nor was Anya, but Costia believed in many things. Tradition. And progress. Faith. And Science. Maege. And nomaege. In times of uncertainty, Costia would pray to the allstone. In times of peace and prosperity she would thank the Allstone. Costia never mentioned a will or what she wanted when she passed. Why would she? They were both so young._

_Lexa decided to go the traditional route. She thought Costia would want the Termina ceremony._

_She watches as she and Anya grasp the torch together and light the pyre. Lexa considers the tendrils of smoke as they waft into the air, mixing with the fading green. It wasn’t summer. And it wasn’t quite fall yet. The trees held a hesitancy in their leaves. As if they knew the dark was coming and would pull them all to the ground._

_It is September. Her hair is much shorter. She doesn’t look much younger than she is now. But she sees that she has her Jade syno. It still looks brand new. A gift from Costia for Lexa’s 25 th birthday._

_Anya drops the torch onto the pyre turns and walks away. Lexa watches herself kneel to the ground. The smoke swirls and Lexa feels herself being pulled back. A thick coil of smoke winds around a tree and Lexa swears she sees familiar grey robes that she didn’t see that day._

* * *

 

“You did it again.”

“Did what?”

“Disappeared.”

“Oh.” She shakes her head. It feels weird. Another string of things happening to her. Her syno itches again. But she ignores it. “You were right. It was 3 years this past September. I didn’t even realize it. It didn’t feel like that long at all.”

Clarke sighs then takes a deep breath, holding it in while she finds the words she needs. “I asked you out that night.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Twice. Actually.”

“I asked if you wanted to go to the festival, this festival, with me.” Clarke closes her eyes as if remembering. “Do you remember what you said?”

“I wasn’t feeling up for it. I said maybe next year.”

“Then I asked you if you wanted to go out another time.”

“And I said the same thing. Ask me again in a year.”

Clarke just connects their eyes, and Lexa knows that she is willing Lexa to understand something. Waiting for Lexa to make the connection. When Lexa doesn’t, Clarke speaks. “It was a year ago yesterday.”

That’s when Lexa understands. “Last night, before I made the potion, that was a date?”

“I thought it was, yes. Up until you ran away.”

“Clarke, I had no idea.”

Clarke just gives her that, pointed skeptical look that Lexa is all too familiar with. Clarke shakes her head and smiles. “I just thought you weren’t into me.”

Lexa snorts a small blast of air. Her not into Clarke. It’s preposterous. “I didn’t think you would be into me ever. I didn’t think you would want to be pulled into…”

“Your warmth, your kindness?” Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“The black soup as you put it.” Lexa says as she traces a finger around herself, where her aura would be. “There’s a part of me that will always be grieving, I think.”

“Like I said, it must have been some love.” Clarke stops them again. They are about to reach the courtyard. Some things must finally make sense to her. “And you think that your grief makes you less capable of caring for me?”

Lexa looks away. “You deserve someone without darkness.”

“Lexa, I know what you feel. About yourself. About your grief. I can see it. But whatever darkness you think you carry, you are wrong.” She pulls Lexa in close to her. Lexa’s heart starts beating quickly. She looks down to Clarke’s lips and back up again. Clarke continues. “I never told this to you, but your aura. It’s different. It’s brighter than anyone’s. Even your black soup is brilliant to me. We could be in a room of a thousand people and I would be able to tell where you were instantly. Just by your aura. It’s a beacon. You are light to me. Not darkness.”

Lexa holds her gaze. Willing Clarke’s words to fill her. She pulls their foreheads together. “I care about you Clarke. I want us. But...”

Clarke entwines her fingers across the small of Lexa’s back. “I know.” She then lets the silence spread and just holds Lexa. And Lexa lets her.

“Lexa.” Clarke pulls back and takes a deep breath. “Will you go to the festival with me? As my date?”

Lexa mirrors the same deep breath. “On one condition.”

“Ok.”

“It counts as our second date.” Lexa says on her exhale.

“Deal.” Clarke says, her smile lighting up the darkened path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gay giggle*
> 
> :D


End file.
